“Do you see that over there, Mike?”

“The rocks?”

“No, the lights. The three of them, over on the horizon. They’re flickering.”

“Oh! I do see them now. What is that?”

“I’m not sure but it’s at the edge of this cliff, just before it drops down. Whatever it is is on the edge of the cliff.”

“Is it our eyes playing tricks on us? Are they just stars?

“I don’t think so. They’re flashing too much.”

“Should we go see what it is?”

“We should probably turn back…but…it might be someone who needs our help.”

“Let’s go see what they are, but be careful. It’s real close to the edge, whatever it is.”

“Are those…headlights? On a bike helmet?”

“I see the helmet. It’s getting darker, though. Take out your phone flashlight.”

“It is. Flickering, dying lights on this helmet. I’m afraid to look down below.”

“Whatever’s below, nature will reclaim it as Her own. She’ll claim this helmet, too. The lights will die off, and weeds and flowers will grow around it and nobody will ever know that it was ever-“

“Well, we should tell someone, right?”

“When we get back, yeah. Hopefully nature won’t mark us with a vendetta. We’re taking what’s Hers.”

“Strange perspective to have. Let’s head out. It’s getting chilly.”